Posting to 232 OCU RAF Gaydon

‘As far as I can recall, I have never met Miss Keeler.’ A good PRO, I thought at the time, would have advised that Minister to word his statement rather more felicitously. But, of course, there were no spin doctors or special advisors in those days

When 18 Squadron disbanded in 1963, its specialist electronic warfare role having been taken over by the new Mark 2 Vulcans, I was posted from Finningley to Gaydon near Leamington Spa as an instructor on the Valiant ground school, part of No 232 Operational Conversion Unit (OCU). Not long after arriving at Gaydon I was given two secondary duties: the first was a minor post on the Officers' Mess Committee and the second was the rather more important job of editing the monthly station magazine, ‘The Gaydon Gazette’. Following my experiences at Finningley as the station's press relations officer, where my brief from that Station Commander had been to keep the press as far away as possible from his station, it was a relief to find that at Gaydon there was a new openness in the official attitude towards what we nowadays call the media. Of course, Gaydon was a V Bomber training unit not a front-line bomber station and so security was rather less of an issue than it was at Finningley.

My métier was obviously known to my new station commander when he gave me the Editor's job. I had an almost free hand to publish what I wanted and I did not have to submit my work to anyone before publication. Such trust! But, as often happens with in-house magazines even today, I found I had to write most of the stories myself. The Gaydon Gazette was handsomely printed on glossy paper by a small firm located close to the nearby village of Kineton. I learned everything I know about the printing process, proof-reading, galleys, gutters, typefaces and leading – and how to pronounce leading properly – from the enthusiastic and ever patient people who worked at the Kineton Press and that knowledge has stood me in good stead ever since.

Kineton village itself achieved unwanted notoriety when the local pub, a truly delightful 'olde-worlde' English country pub much frequented by aircrew from Gaydon, was revealed in the press as the regular weekend hideaway of the Right Honourable John Profumo MP and Miss Christine Keeler. Mr Profumo was Secretary of State for War (an old title that disappeared when the Ministry of Defence was created from the three single service ministries). By virtue of his position since 1950 as Member of Parliament for nearby Stratford-upon-Avon, Mr Profumo was an Honorary Member of the Officers’ Mess at Gaydon, which meant that he would be regularly invited to various social occasions including official cocktail parties, annual Formal Balls and Dining-In Nights.

There were only about a dozen honorary members in total and their names and titles were emblazoned in gold letters on a prominent notice board just inside the main entrance to the Officers Mess. Shortly after I arrived at Gaydon one Honorary Member, a local District Councillor, apparently berated the Station Commander for not having his title amended to reflect his recent appointment as an Alderman. The Station Commander apologised and instructed the Mess President to appoint someone to ensure that nothing like that ever occurred again. As the junior member of the Mess Committee I was promptly given that onerous task by the Mess President.

Thus it was that one morning in early June 1963 on arriving for breakfast I was perturbed to notice that Mr Profumo's name had been rather crudely erased from the list of Honorary Members with some kind of sharp instrument. Thinking this might have been an act of vandalism, I brought this to the attention of the Mess President straight away. The President told me abruptly that Mr Profumo was no longer an Honorary Member. There being no instant radio or TV news broadcasts in those days, it was only later in the day that the news of Mr Profumo's resignation from the Cabinet as a result of his affair with Christine Keeler began to percolate around the station.

Amongst the junior officers at Gaydon there was general sadness. After all, Miss Keeler was a very beautiful woman. I am sure we were all dismayed, even disgusted, to learn that the then proprietor of the village pub allegedly started charging customers from outside the local area a fee for viewing a small item of Miss Keeler's underwear which he kept for that purpose behind the bar and which he claimed had been left behind one night. The pub lost most of its RAF customers thereafter.

I hasten to add that I was never able to verify that story for myself but the pub in question is now a highly-respected hotel.

Needless to report, Mr Profumo's fall from grace did not feature in any of the articles I wrote. I do recall, however, reading a defensive statement in the national press by another Government Minister which said, ‘As far as I can recall, I have never met Miss Keeler.’ A good PRO, I thought at the time, would have advised that Minister to word his statement rather more felicitously. But, of course, there were no spin doctors or special advisors in those days.

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